"𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒂𝒑 𝒎𝒆?"
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The arcade wasn't Halley Byers first choice in jobs. It was a far bike ride from her house when she didn't have the car, and it was filled with creepy guys that constantly tried to flirt with her. But it did have it's perks. Sneaking coins to her younger brother and his friends being the best in her mind. And Keith, wanting nothing more than to spend more time with the girl, was more than happy to let her pick up as many shifts as she'd like.
Which was exactly why Halley was there now. Closing was both the best and worst time to work. Guys her age would constantly try to show off by showing her their high scores, telling her they have 'stamina'. Acting like they meant the game when she gave them a disgusted look, but she knew.
There's always the good side though: kicking them out.
"You know, as much as I'd love to see your new score on Pac man, it's time to close," She said sweetly, twirling a key ring around her finger. She was stuck trying to get Carl to leave. And it wasn't the first time he had proven to be difficult.
"C'mon doll, why don't you close up, and you and I play a few games?" His voice was low, and he thought he sounded seductive. In reality, he sounded like he was choking on his own tongue, which is something Halley yearned for.
After a pedophile like wink, Halley had had enough. "Carl? I still don't like you. Nor will I ever. Now please get out so I can go home," she deadpanned, watching as Carl's smile fell.
Whatever feelings he had towards her, if they ever existed, aside from physical, in the first place, disappeared. Carl's fists clenched behind his sides and his eyebrows twitched. If a sinkhole could open up and devour Halley now, she would welcome it openly.
"Whatever, you're a bitch anyway," he said. And usually, Halley would have taken offence to the word, but coming from a lanky twig like Carl? There were more acne scars on his face than words in his vocabulary.
She sighed, examining the chipping polish on her nails. "Have a nice night, Carl." The door slammed behind him. But Halley didn't really care today. Keith had left early for something family related, and Carl, as usual, was the last one in the arcade, which meant all Halley had to do was lock up and she was free from the All Hawkins' Rejects' hangout.
The night air was cold, and it nipped at Halley's cheeks as she tugged her worn leather jacket around her. Since Jonathan had taken the car for a school project before Halley's shift, she was stuck riding her bike to the grocery store, then home.
Still standing where she had last left it, was her old metallic blue bike. It was a little banged up, from when she had crashed, and ran into a few poles, and gotten flat tires, but that's neither here nor there. It was still something Halley held close in her heart, probably because of the many bike rides she had taken the boys on when they were younger.
For her own convenience, there was a small wicker basket attached to the front handle bars, specifically for times like this. Her mom was still working, and Jonathan was at home waiting for Will. Which meant it was up to her to pick up the few things they needed for the next few days.
Halley reached into her pocket, coming up with a worn piece of notebook paper. Unfolding it, she found the list of things that her mother had written before she left for work.
Eggs, bread, butter, crayons (don't tell Will)
Smiling at the last item, she folded the paper back up, and mounted her bike. The store was down a hill, and while it wasn't steep, it still pushed enough wind into Halley's face to make goosebumps crawl up her neck. She couldn't lie, the fresh air was a little freeing; it made her feel almost invincible, as the musky air filled her nose and soft chirp of crickets littered the atmosphere. She loved her mom and her brothers, absolutely, and nothing would ever change that, but it was nice to feel like she didn't have to worry about everything sometimes. When the sky was a shade after dusk, and she rode through abandoned streets, Halley didn't have to worry about money, or her deadbeat father, or any of the kids at school.
Fluorescent white lights drew Halley into the Hawkins' store like a moth to a flame. She knocked down the kickstand, and left her bike by a rack outside the door, then made her way inside.
Small shopping basket in hand, she mentally went over the list. The store was mostly empty, as it was nearing closing time, so Halley had no trouble getting to the eggs.
She placed a carton in the basket as carefully as she could. Butter should be nearby. Two sections over, she found it, choosing the discounted one that expired in a few days.
It was beginning to look like her trip to the store would be uneventful, but things just couldn't go her way. Instead, as she was making her way to the bakery to pick up a loaf of, hopefully, fresh bread, she spotted the one and only King Steve. The Hair Harrington. The dickbag that ran Hawkins High.
"Shit." She pretended to be interested in wine prices when she noticed his gaze shift towards her. Halley prayed he didn't recognize her.
No such luck. "Well, if it isn't Bitchy Byers." The smirk was evident in his voice, and Halley had the urge to drop everything and just leave. But they needed groceries, so she would have to endure whatever Steve would do.
"What do you want Harrington? I'm kinda busy here." She gestured to the basket in hand as she turned to face him. Unsurprisingly, he didn't seem to care.
"And you're shopping for alcohol?" his tone had a sharp lilt, like he had just caught her in the act of something. As if he believed she would actually attempt to buy the wine.
She scoffed, shifting the basket to her other hand. "Well, I need something to get me through this conversation." Steve seemed slightly taken aback by her response, but not enough to render him speechless. Halley wondered if anything was enough to do so.
"Damn, Byers, who pissed in your cereal?" He leaned on a half empty shelf, and Halley prayed it would collapse beneath him, to no avail.
She rolled her eyes, using her free hand's middle finger to push hair behind her ear. Steve laughed at the antics, but she wasn't trying to be funny. "Look, I have stuff to do, so get whatever half assed plan you have over with, okay?"
Halley looked around, wishing she could find a scapegoat, but there were no other customers in sight.
"Jesus, someone's strung up tight. Can't I say hi to a friend?" He held a tone of innocence but Halley could see mischief gleaming in his eyes. And she did not want to deal with his bullshit at the moment.
"We're not friends." She turned and began to walk off, but felt Steve's presence a few paces behind her. "God," she breathed out, "What do you want?" She picks up a loaf of bread, but puts it back when it's not soft enough for her liking.
Steve hands over another loaf. "I don't want anything," he said nonchalantly. Despite finding the bread suitable, Halley put it down, not wanting Steve to get the satisfaction of accepting his pick. Was it petty? Sure. Did she care? Not in the slightest.
"Then why are you still here?" Her tone held annoyance, but not anger. If anything she was relieved he hadn't tried to do anything dickish; she was sure he would have had his friends been there with him. She picked up another loaf of bread, decided it was good enough, and placed it on top of her eggs. Steve said nothing.
Crayons were the last thing on the list now, and Halley already knew Steve was going to follow her to the art aisle.
Halfway to the section she was looking for, she noticed The Clash softly playing overhead. Without realizing it, she bobbed her head along to the chorus, only to stop when she heard a snicker from Steve.
"Can I help you?" she snapped at him. Stopping completely in front of a shelf full of Cheerios. Steve only raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk evident on his lips. The bastard. "Seriously, is there a reason you're following me?"
"Is me following you around getting on your nerves?" his head tilted slightly, and he seemed genuinely curious.
"Alright, Harrington, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'd very much rather be left out of it." A silence settled between the two. Halley refused to move on until Steve acknowledged her. But she also knew that there was a limited time to get everything she needed and then check out. She let out a huff, waving her free hand out beside her, "you're insufferable I hope you know that."
Neither of them talked to each other as Halley finally reached the art supplies, picking up a sixty-four pack of Crayola. Will had been complaining about the little nubs of crayons he still had from last Christmas.
Halley could practically see the confused look gripping Steve's face, but she pretended not to as she turned around and headed back to the front of the store.
All but one of the checkout stands were open. A short woman with pale skin and stringy black hair leaned against the counter, reading one of the magazines on display. She barely looked up as Halley placed her things on the conveyor belt, dropping the basket in a stack next to a small cooler of drinks.
"This everything?" The girl said, scanning the items and placing them into a white plastic bag, not waiting for a reply. She looked up, eyes drifting to Steve who still stood nearby, then back to Halley, "it's four fifty." Halley pulled a five dollar bill from her pocket and slid it over. The girl handed her the bag along with two quarters and waved her off.
Halley tried not to take any offence, she was probably just tired, or had a long day. There was no need to make it worse.
She walked back out into the frigid night, a twist of a breeze whisking by and sending stray hairs into her face. Spluttering them out of her mouth, she glared up at no one in particular.
Just as it had seemed she had gotten rid of Steve, and as she had gotten situated on her bike, groceries safely in the basket, he spoke again.
"You need a ride?" She yelped at the sudden noise, thinking he was still in the store, and nearly fell off her bike.
"Holy shit!" Halley swore, turning to face Steve, with, yet again, another smirk crossing his lips. Her eyes scanned over him, waiting for something bad to happen.
His arms crossed over his chest and he seemed relaxed. Something Halley found strange, because this had been their first civil conversation since...She couldn't even remember when. "Well?" he said again, "It's getting dark, and it's pretty cold." He gestured around him, as if that would somehow prove to Halley that she should accept the offer.
"Alright, legitimate question here, Harrington, are you trying to kidnap me?" Her brow quirked. She couldn't think of any other reason Steve would be acting so nice.
To Halley's surprise, Steve laughed. It wasn't a harsh bark, but a real laugh, as if he truly thought she was joking. The laughing soon stopped when he noticed her unchanged expression. "Oh my god, no! Not at all. I mean, it's late and who knows what kind of freaks are out right now. Chivalry, right?"
Halley snorted, not meaning to, but hearing the king of her high school offer her a ride home because of 'chivalry'? After day after day of tormenting? It was a little weird. But she couldn't deny it was cold. And the street lights stopped halfway to her house, which meant there was a good chance she would be riding home in near darkness.
"God, I'm so gonna regret this," Halley muttered to herself. She ran her hand over her mouth, then steadied herself, "your car better have room for the bike."
Steve smiled, not at all taken aback by the hostility in Halley's voice. "No problem, Byers. Right this way." She followed him to a well kept BMW, her bike tightly grasped in case she needed to make a quick escape, though she doubted Steve had planned anything this thoroughly.
"You know, I'm serious," he started, taking the bike from Halley's hesitant grasp and gently placed it in his trunk, the plastic bag now gripped firmly at her side, "I'm not planning on kidnapping you."
"Yeah, well," she took a shuddering breath, trying not to let Steve know just how uneasy she was in the situation, "I'll believe it when I get home."
Halley's knees rested against the side of the door, while her eyes were straight ahead. Steve pretended not to notice the way she mouthed the lyrics to some Fleetwood Mac song. It wasn't exactly his style, but Halley had turned on the radio after she had had enough of the silence, and almost smiled when she heard the chorus.
"So, what other music do you like?" Steve asked when the song had ended, and Halley's face had gone back to an emotionless void. She glanced over to him, her eyes calculating. She still didn't trust him. Not after his long held reputation of being a shithead.
Steve softly drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for a response he wasn't sure would come. Yet, for unknown reasons, Halley spared him a smile. "Anything, really, as long as it drowns out the sound of your voice." She turned up the volume to a song by The Smiths.
Steve turned the dial back, the music coming out at a barely audible level. "Is there a reason you hate me?" He asked.
Halley wasted no time, shooting back, "Is there a reason you're a dick?" Her jaw was squared, and Steve figured he should have expected this. Halley had hated him and his friends ever since she overheard them talking about Jonathan Byers.
From Steve's experience, Halley had what it took to be popular. Her attitude could be shaped a little more, but she had the looks, and in Hawkins' High, that's what mattered most. The one thing he couldn't understand though, was why she would throw it all away. Instead of surrounding herself with the many people that had once wanted to be her friend, she left it all for middle schoolers and the occasional lunch with band geeks. The weirdest part to Steve, was that she knew people didn't like her, and she went out of her way to piss them off. Sure, those people had messed with her so called friends, but she was ruining any social expectations she had for herself.
"Are you high, Harrington?" Halley's voice broke Steve away from his wandering thoughts. "Is that why this is happening? You have a few too many cigs today?" A single eyebrow was raised, and a bored expression crossed over her face. Not that Steve would notice, but Halley was trying to mask the feeling of uncertainty woven in her chest. The idea that something would happen when she was stuck alone with Harrington was terrifying to her.
Steve chuckled, pushing his hair back before answering, "as surprising as it might be to you, I'm not."
Halley rolled her eyes, following the twists of the road from her window. "Sure." The neighborhoods became less organized as the car drove along. Only a few houses here and there.
Silence settled back around the two, and Steve realized that a single kind gesture wouldn't destroy the abrasive attitude Halley held towards him.
"Take a left up here. You can let me off on the path, you don't have to drive up," she said, eyes scanning over Steve as if she was waiting for him to argue. But instead he simply followed her directions, pulling over to the side of the road when he saw the old house.
Against Halley's wishes, though, Steve parked the car, and took it upon himself to help her get her down about half of the pathway before Halley stopped him.
"Thanks for not kidnapping me, Harrington," She said, taking hold of her bike. Steve smiled at this, almost sparing her a laugh. He turned to leave, but Halley caught his wrist, dropping it almost as instantly when he faced her again. Her façade broke for a moment, and a small half smile grew on her lips, "Seriously, thank you for the ride."
For a moment, Steve didn't know how to react, half of him thought he should poke fun, make a joke about her not relying on him, or tease her about something, but there was a glint of sincerity in her eyes, and the ideas left Steve's mind. "Yeah, yeah totally. No problem." This time, when he turned to leave, Halley didn't stop him.
Instead, she rolled her bike to the garage, let herself into the house, dropping the eggs and butter into the fridge, and allowed herself to finally fall into her bed, and sleep.